


Hooked on you

by NaroMoreau



Series: Flame in the wind [5]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Light Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaroMoreau/pseuds/NaroMoreau
Summary: Sharky keeps struggling to keep his nonchalant facade under control because he knows Dep isn’t interested. That is until something unexpected happens.





	Hooked on you

Well fuck. Of course all had ended tits up. Not that he’d other expectations, ‘cuz when it came to consider a scenario involving him and a chick like Dep, things just-- just didn’t work out. And it hurt. Worst than the well known kick in the nuts. Hell, he’d take an extra ration of those just so, so- Fuck. Just to get out of that emotional dry spell.

He ain't an idiot. There’d been something bouncing back and forth. Small, real smooth hints that made his heart thud and his mind spin at night when the memories wheeled around. But outta the blue, one day she just-- slow fade him. Nothing too obvious. Just the same show he already knew, the same sad song he’d already danced. Maybe he’s just overthinking it.

No. The little voice inside his head has it right. She’d been joshing with him, that’s all. Just pure teasing between friends and he’d swallowed hook, line and sinker. Like a complete moron.

It’s a matter of time now. I mean, it may be the end of the world or whatever but-- She’s gonna find someone. ‘Cuz she’s hella pretty and, and, not that he’d check her out or nothing, but yeah. She’s gonna find someone. And the thought just tastes wrong.

Why he had to fall for her like that? He ain’t a fucking teenager to keep believing that when push came to shove, she’d stay or say what he craved to hear. And fucking Christ in heaven, this time he’d been hit hard. Shovel on the head kinda hard.

“Thanks for coming with me, man,” she says, severing his brooding thoughts.

Even looking at her is downright painful, the dimples of that smile making his stomach twist in knots, and those eyes, man. Sparkling something that Sharky is never sure to grasp entirely. “It’s ‘aight, shorty, I got you.”

“I know  you ain’t a fan of the Wolf’s Den, so I really appreciate it.”

He ain’t a fan of anyone who throws glimmering mistrust in Dep’s direction, not after watch her bleed in his arms, clumps of sweaty wayward hair sticking to dusty cheeks, as the fear rends his heart to shreds. Not when it’d been real easy for her to just kick everyone to the curb and run away. It’s rude and just outright disrespectful. “Nah, it's cool dude, I can deal with the claustrophobia for a bit,” he lies.

She chuckles with her eyes riveted on the road, but the frayed smile tells Sharky she’s far from feeling fine.

“Dep?”

“Mmm?”

“Uh, I know it’s not my business but uh, you ok?”

White-knuckled grip at the wheel before she cracks a lopsided grin in his direction. “Sorta.”

He ain’t sure if it means he should or could pry or pester her further, or if she’s politely telling him to fuck off. So he shuts his mouth. Self-preservation at its finest.

“I mean yeah,” she continues after a few seconds, but her voice is all wavering now. It makes Sharky uneasy, “but I haven't seen Staci since I got him out of Jacob’s bunker and I don't know, I guess-- I guess I’m a little rattled to see him. It could’ve been me y’know?”

“Don’t say that, man.” Never say that, he wants to say, but his voice is harsh and--. He swallows, thick. Better to chuck that idea out the passenger window, ‘cuz thinking about a reality without Dep is just-- better not to amble in that direction.

The car skids to a stop outside Wolf’s Den, and they hop off making their way inside. He nods at Wheaty on the entrance. That guy is promising, real potential right there, and maybe he can stop by to check on his vinyl collection while Dep’s busy visiting her friend. 

At his side, she fidgets, frowning and giving small exhalations as if she were preparing to run a marathon. Sharky cocks a brow. He’d never seen her looking so tense, not even after he rescued her from that flossy motherfucker’s bunker.

“Hey, chica, uh, want me to stick ‘round?” Sharky almost reaches his hand to brush the hunched line of her shoulders, closing his fist to thwart his impulse, ‘cuz touchy-feely is not a line of action he recommends to himself. Not now. Probably not later also.

“No, it’s ok. I just-- I’ll be fine.” She gives a gingerly squeeze to his arm and his brain takes it as a cue to send butterflies fluttering down in his gut. Out-and-out juvenile.

He gulpes and smiles in a silent acquiescing, trudging away from her, every line and wrinkle on his face twisting in flat-out dejection.

He doesn’t snatch his eyes away from the threshold until her footfalls fade in metallic echoes.

\------------

He does a mental inventory of all the goodies Wheaty allows him to take back to his trailer park. Lotsa fun stuff to blast while melting peggies and swaying his fuckin’ pantless ass just to show them Seeds they can’t take him down. It’s been well past an hour and he juggles with the vinyls in his arms meandering through narrow corridors, skirting piles of supplies cluttering up on the floor, trying to reach the room Eli always assigns to them when they’re in the premises.

The darkness is uninviting, scrambling his sense of direction and time. And he’s hungry and hopes Tammy doesn’t appear around a corner ‘cuz she ain’t that nice. Then a muffled sob. A strained groan. Sharky joggles to the room closer with the door ajar.  Somebody is losing their shit and he can’t blame them. He’d be close to if it wasn’t for-- Whatever. But help your neighbor and all that shit, even though he ain’t the most adequate candidate for that stuff. He’s more than aware of that. When he gets real close, he sets apart two distinct pitches, and his heart leap to his throat recognizing one as Dep’s.

He should’ve taken a step back and get the hell outta there, ‘cuz it ain’t gentlemanlike to go snooping around in other people's business but Dep is there. And he needs to know she’s fine. He peers through the slight opening watching Pratt crying all over Dep’s shoulder, hands clinging to her waist borderline hysteric. He really feels bad for the guy, having spent a good chunk of a month tucked away in Jacob Seed’s personal rendition of hell.

But in the flick of a second his breath freezes in his lungs, the buzz of his blood roaring in his ears. ‘Cuz Pratt is kissing Dep and as much as it’s gut-wrenching to see he can’t tear his eyes away. Like a fucking masochist. Every swipe of his tongue and every second of shared breath stings deeper and deeper, until it’s too much and he forces his legs to unnail and wonkily take him someplace else. Anywhere but there. An ache rises under his breastbone, eyes chockfull with tears, arms tingling and dropping his cargo with a loud clunk on the floor. Breathe. Miraculously he reaches the familiar room with bed bunks and closes the door for good measure.

What the fuck had he been hoping for, really?

Like she’d just turn and say hey man, actually I’m into you? Real fucking stellar. Of course that Pratt fella had the upper hand. He has a real job and not a shady piss business, probably not one forced check-in at County Jail and they both even click in the age department. Not that he thought of himself as old but she’s almost twelve years his junior, not that that shit matters when he’s a complete loser in every aspect of that pathetic thing he dares to call life. He climbs to the upper bunk, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, and just maxes out in seething silence. ‘Cuz it ain’t fair to her but that jealousy thing man, it seeps and twinges and soaks him all, making him clench his jaw and grit his teeth.

Sundry feels whirl up inside him, heels diggin’ in the thin ass cot and fuck, there it is, that feeling bursting under the surface. Fuck. The need to set some shit on fire, like he usually does when he’s crashing down. Down, down.

“Shark?”

He should’ve jumped and run away, but he’s three feet above the ground and has great value for his bone’s integrity.

“‘Sup Dep?” There’s a flickering wave in his voice. Shaky. Unwanted, definitely not convenient tears stinging his lashes. He oughta nip them right in the bud ‘fore she sees them and yeah. That’s not--

“Hey, are you ok? I just- uh, just wanted to know if you wanted to go and eat something?”

Yeah, no thanks. Just to sit there and watch them both-- His stomach rolls over, tight and heavy as lead. “I’ll pass, uh, not, not really hungry today, sh- man.”

Shorty. Sounds fucking outta place. Something born out of his shy-ass attempt to say more. Needing more but ending with less. And he’s waiting for her to jerk her hand in that particular, very Dep like way to say good riddance, you’re not worth my time. But she stays.

His stomach growls of hunger just then. Fucking traitor.

“So, uh, not hungry then?” She moves one pace closer to the bed bunk. Yeah. She's not falling into it.

“Nope.”

And she really needs to go, and leave him alone. Gnawing his misery. Regaining his breath that now is just scorching his lungs. And he doesn't see. Eyes closed under a warm forearm.

A gentle tug at the hem of his pants, makes him groan in his raw throat. “Shark,” she says with that mellow tinge, “what’s going on? could you just--?”

She won’t let that shit fly. ‘Cuz he knows her. ‘Cuz she’s Dep and Dep is a problem solver. He bites his lip. Blinking, once, twice. A blessed drag of his hoodie over sodden eyes, and he prays. Begs. That she just won’t notice.

“Uh, I’m, I’m kinda ragged up, Dep.”

“Seriously man, what’s going on? You’re starting to freak me out-- could you just-- come down here. Please.”

Dude, it’s cruel. ‘Cuz she really cares. It’s such an earnest pleading he finds his legs moving despite his own blockade. When was the last time someone acted like he mattered? Like they actually cared?

He’s down. And she’s sitting on the bunk studiously looking at the wall. Yeah. Allowing him the courtesy of pretend it’s all normal. ‘Cuz Dep ain’t stingy.

Sharky swallows. “So uh, here I am, what, uh, what do ya need, Dep?”

“You can just sit here, y’know? I don’t bite. What’s got into you?” She scoffs.

She gives something like a general glance in his direction. And he sits. ‘Cuz not doing it is just plain giving that’s something’s off. And things would be better if he just had a beer can in his hand.

“What happened,” she asks finally looking him in the eye.

His mouth goes dry. “I uh, I hit my foot with the uh, the pole of the bed.”

She gives a soft snort and let it pass. “I talked with Staci,” she says. Sharky would’ve prefer to being hit by the bat of a grimy peggie than trekking into that direction. “He’s in really bad shape, and I just-- God, Shark, you should’ve seen him, there’s no trace of the guy who used to steal my coffee in the mornings.”

He knows he should say something. But his words are swallowed by the yawning chasm in his stomach. He hums an agreement.

“And I just-- I was thinking, y’know? I’m barely holding my sanity here and it’s all because of y’all.”

She rubs a hand across his. The column of her neck cranes, cranes ‘til those green eyes pierce into quicksilver ones and he can’t hack that shudder. A wild one. She reaches an arm and runs experienced fingers along his jaw. That warm, indistinct thing curls in his chest. Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard gulp.

He sifts her face. Pent-up reactions lingering in the moment. Hooded eyes, tugged up lips. Suspended. She takes a deep breath and is the last thing Sharky can hear before--

She plunges. 

Her lips are pressed to his, his fizz of thoughts lost in one stroke. He’s not expecting it when she opens her mouth. Breath goes shallow but his tongue dips, dips up and down. Circling. Greedy. Eyes closed, it’s too perfect to last. An unwanted flash before his eyes. Black beard, tan skin. Not his. Not him. Fuck.

He pushes her off.

“What the fuck Dep?” He hates it. Hates himself. He should just take it and be happy with it. He can’t. Giveaway blur on his eyes. “Ain’t you with Pratt or somethin’?”

“What?”

A sharp blow. More like a, like a real keen strike. Right to the face. But he’s right. And now he’s not sure if he should say it but he will ‘cuz Sharky’s mouth has a mind of its own.

“C’mon Dep, I uh, I saw you back there, I mean it’s cool, y’know? Don’t sweat it, but I’m uh, I’m not into steppin’ into another dude’s territory.”

He’s sure he’s doing right. Being a gentleman and all that shit. ‘Cuz he’s not that much of a fuckin’ asshole. No matter how much he wants it. Jump in and dive.

“You saw it?”

Her hand is gone. Flat, emotionless voice reverberating in the tiny space. 

“Yeah.”

“And-- did you happen to hear what happened after that?”

“Uh, nope. I mean it’s not my business to be skulkin’ around to listen convos--”

“But it’s your business to take fuckin’ conclusions without all the information?”

“Uh--” Wordless, lame-ass response. Not much to say to not look like, like a goddamn idiot.

The line of her shoulders ease down, and she lets out a deep, heavy sigh. “It’s not what you think, Shark,” she says and he clings to that believe so he bites his lip, to not screw up his chances. “He was just-- It wasn’t nothing romantic y’know? I’m the first fuckin’ person he sees that actually knows him from before all this clusterfuck started.” She shakes her head, a crink around her mouth. Sad, gloomy smile. “It  wasn’t as much as a kiss, as uh, I don’t know-- cling to a lifeline I guess.”

She smiles, a hand finding his cheek again. He actually leans into it now, fears now flaky as she scoots closer. Warm thigh against his. “Y’know? There’s a-- a common practice in the department,” she says, thumb rubbing circles on his stubble, and he’s doing everything he can not to sigh like a fuckin’ damsel, “to always focus on the things you care right? Your family, your pet, whatever. You know who I think of every morning?”

He’s paying attention. For the first time he is. Brain nailed to her train of thoughts. “B-Baby Carmina?” he says, voice thick with things he doesn’t comprehend still.

She laughs. Clear, ringing bells kinda clear. “I love my goddaughter but uh, I think you’re playing dumb, dude.”

His pulse flutters. Quick. Escalating into speedily beats, palms damp. He’s all jittery and dizzy, ‘cuz she’s looking at him, sporting a vexing grin. “Uh, Dep? My chick radar is kinda rusty y’know but I’m-- I’m picking some signals here? Just uh, just tell me what to do.” The words roll in a whisper, mouth a dry mess.

“I’ll show you.”

She speaks with a sense of finality just to kiss him as soon as the last vocal fades in the air. Soft lips against his chapped ones. Soon her tongue follows, sweeping along every nook and cranny. Warm and teasing, wheedling low moans from him with every push.

He holds her. Closer. Tighter. It takes him a moment to daze off and click back. This. This right here. All he’d ever wanted. Fuck, it feels good.

He runs his hands down, fighting gravity to not fall back. ‘Cuz they’re sitting on a friggin bunk and he ain’t sure she wants to--

Fuck, she does.

Her hand slips past the waistband of his pants, under his threadbare boxers. Erection now throbbing between her fingers. He pulls her down, arms around her waist.

They fall in a panting heap. Muscles and curves pressing him right where they should be. Like a fucking puzzle. A perfect puzzle.

She slides off him for an instant, and he complains. A groan. But she smiles, shedding off her clothes and breath catches in his chest. He’s burning. Sweating like a pig in the summer. His threads are gone in a heartbeat, not thinkin’ about the beer gut he has come to terms with, or the other fuckton of things that could sour this moment.

“You sure ‘bout this, Shorty?” He asks, ‘cuz he has manners and, and not that his pulsing cock is pressing between her thighs already.

She dips down. Kisses him again. Slowly, sweetly, taking her time. “Are you?”

“You really askin’ me that question, amigo?” he says breathless, both hands making an arrow direct to his dick.

But it's not just that. He’d never wanted anyone like this. Not just a fuck. Not just the feeling of being spent but hollow. He needs the aftermath more than he needs the sex.

“Look, gotta be real honest with you, shorty ,” he says, feelings finally frothin’ out from deep-six within him, “‘cuz you uh, need to know ‘fore all gets weird. I just, I think I love you man.”

He doesn't know what he’s expecting from Dep. Cool, controlled Dep now staring at him, bare and on top of him. What a fuckin’ sight.

“I love you too Sharky.”

Certainly not that. Clean, direct answer, no shades or ifs. It feels weird. Like watching a familiar movie with a different ending.  A happy one. He smiles, white teeth through thin lips.

He shifts his body, mouth now roving over her collarbone and she arches. Soon he’s all over her nipples. Okay. He’s good at this. This is where he excels.

He sucks her breasts, touching the warmth of her skin, reaching to every place he can find. The drag of his lips is making her whimper, and his downstairs complain. Twitching. Impatient.

“Fuck, Shark,” she says dreamily, fingers squeezing his cock and lining him up to her entrance.

Slowly, she takes him in. Maddening tightness, slick and hot engulfing him one inch at a time. She eases down on his dick and he’s just about to lose his cool ‘cuz, ‘cuz he’s balls deep inside her.

“Oh, shit, shit, Dep, fuck,” he whines. He grips the side of her thighs, groaning deep at the back of his throat.

She hums, lazy smile tagging a long with a roll of her hips. Oh shit. It’s taking him a goddamn effort not to ram artlessly and let go. But he ain’t a selfish ass.

“You feel so good, Sharky,” she says, drawled words all low and throaty.

That’s his name, that’s his fuckin’ name right there. “Shit, babe, you’re one to talk.”

Air is suddenly not reaching his lungs. He’s high of her, trying to find his pace, amidst overwhelming sensations. He rocks his hips, steady movements among the gut-twisting little moans she’s giving. At least he’s doin’ it right.

Dep’s bottom lip disappears in her mouth, and heat pools in his groin when her rhythm increases. There’s a blush spreading on her cheeks and the bridge of her nose when he thrust harder to meet her downstrokes.

“Fuck, Shark, yes!”

His fingers dig in her hips to find leverage, sinking heels on the mattress to rock faster, relishing the awe on her face and the blurry haze on her eyes. God, he loves seeing her like this. He’s not sure how long he can take it, his heart already pounding in his ears, head spinning under the delicious friction in every pounding. But sure as fuck he’ll try. She lunges forward, knees burrowed in the cot at the sides of his thighs and palms curled around his shoulders, regaining control, now actually fucking him into the mattress.

“Jesus, fuck, Dep--” he manages to stutter, “y’gonna be the death of me y’know?” He means it and it’d be a fuckin’ good way to go west.

She licks her lips, and he catches a faint smirk and pupils blow wide before he surges to meet her, hand cradling her head. Teeth clicking, tongues swirling desperately, steamy breaths puffing while he’s sure he’s about to break. His mouth trails off, going down the rim of her jaw, dappling her skin with bruises through hard sucks.

The pressure is unbearable, and he’s close, so damn close, feeling the sparks of searing hotness flaring up from his balls, fanning out ‘til his pelvis and his spine seem about to explode.

“I can’t- fuck, Dep, I can’t.”

She kisses him again as an answer, crying out the moment he angles his hips. The hug of her walls is too much, clenching around his cock, pushing him to the final inches of his climax. 

“Dep, I’m ‘bout to--” He tries to pull off, but she keeps him pinned in place.

And if he needs more assurance, she roots her hips down, eyes locked on his. “It’s ok, Sharky, I want you to.”

And he loses it. Fucking Christ, he loses it.

He pulls her down, groaning, burying a final, heavy sigh against her skin. His body tenses, mind-wrecking spasms running along his dick and his balls and he’s dazzled by the popping lights under his lids. Sharky holds her, peppering her face with light kisses as the throbbing fades and the spurts stop, the buzz in his ears lowering to zero.

“That was good,” she says playing with a curl of his hair, draped on him.

“Fuckin-A, babe.” His words are still catching in his throat, a hand placed on her lower back.

He wallows in the moment. Just feeling, not thinking. Trying not to be surpassed by the little things he has never appreciated after the fact. ‘Cuz it wasn’t with her. Yeah. Soft breathing, quick heartbeat thrumming against his chest, the way her skin shines under a thin sheet of sweat. And sweet Jesus, that lavender scent.

“So uh, this means we’re like--together? As in, as in a couple kinda together?” He finally asks. He ain’t bad reading signals but now, he needs the assurance. The certainty. He needs the words leaving her mouth, one hooked to the other.

“Nah, you’re just hot and I wanted to jump your bones,” she says with a grin, “of course it means we’re together, as in a couple kinda together, you big oaf!”

Sharky finally relaxes, feeling the strain of the task and the raw emotions soaking in his bones. “Y’know shorty? Don’t get take this the wrong way but uh, I’m actually kinda beat down, so Imma take a shut eye real quick, ‘mkay?” And then he quickly adds, “please, don’t go.”

She laughs, pulling the blanket over them both and curls against him, warm and comfortably snuggled against him. “You don’t need to apologize, Shark and I’m not going anywhere”

He nuzzles the strands of hair splayed on her shoulder and dozes off to the soft rhythm of her breathing, coming to terms with the awesome reality tickling under his fingers. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
